blackgirl on mars: notes on a life in copenhagen (or how my alienation brings me closer to people).

Sunset  I'm really enjoying my time woofing at an organic soon-to-be biodynamic farm in the small island of Loland, south of Copenhagen. There are two other woofers here - one from Copenhagen, the other from Hungary. If you don't know what woofing is, well, it's this International organisation where you can sign up and arrange to work on an organic farm anywhere in the world for free room and board. This way the farmers get the help they need and the helpers learn about the process of organic farming. It's a brilliant system, and if you are one who would like to travel and interested in organic farming, then woofing is the certainly the way to go. I have many who have gone woofing, and none have described it other than an amazing experience. People coming together on behalf of more responsible farming is a wonderful thing. The owners of the farm are two wonderful Danes, who are committed to substinence farming and who open their home to people from around the wor...

that's vince with my grandmother (his mother) hildred balbirsingh in cumberland, md. One of the best things about my moving to Trinidad at the age of 11 from Brooklyn, was getting to meet my Uncle Vince. Uncle Vince was at that time, the only black kid listening to Heavy Metal in the Vale. The Vale, or Diamond Vale, is this suburb of Port-of-Spain- a valley of concrete houses surrounded by the greenest of hills during the rainy season. Every street is named after a precious stone, and I lived on Emerald Drive. The Vale is divided into the old Vale and the new Vale - I lived in the old Vale. Once, a friend of mine, Robert Cyril- a beautiful green-eyed East Indian boy from the village of Patna (way up in the hills) referred to the Vale as concrete barracks. Barracks was where the workers on the fields were housed. Through Uncle Vince I was introduced to Black Sabbath, Ozzy, AC/DC (We had the coolest black velvet AC/DC poster with silver lettering hanging up in our room), M...

ali's wall, amager 2013 as my pace moves more in line with the universe, life opens up unlimited opportunity. for this i am truly grateful & humbled. today i went by ali's house. ali is a persian writer who lives here in denmark. i used to work with him at my old place of employment. what i love about his writing are his perceptions of things: he reflects a humanity in his observations that i truly miss in most literature. anyway, i've been entrusted to translate his latest book about Iran before, during and after the persian revolution. i am happy for this opportunity as i now not only better understand the story of iran and her people, but am enjoying assisting bringing this book to light. it is based on hundreds of hours of interviews that ali conducted himself with iranian refugees here. it is a labour of love and i am honored to be a part of it. on my way home, i bumped into michelle. michelle is a jamaican artist whom i met and worked with a few years ago....

Super girls  in trees must go in  &  see...

"Look at this Alien" by Rayner Ramirez I opened my email yesterday to find this picture from my friend Rayner. I remember that day: I'm in my early-20s and live in Forte Green. I'm sharing an apartment with my wanna-be rich Aunt and my lovely grandmother. We live on Washington, right off of Dekalb. I'm going to Lang. Lang is this small college in the West Village. It's so small, that it's not out of the ordinary to sit in a class with just you, the professor and one other student.  It was before I understood the role of marketing- so when I read about Eugene Lang College, I fell in love. My high school history teacher at Washington Irving was horrified when I told her my choice. "But Lesley-Ann, you're the first one in your family to go to college and you choose such an obscure one?" I got her point, considering that I was accepted into Brooklyn College, NYU and Bard College. But I had made a decision in my heart: I wasn...